It took Pakkun forever to find the chocolate-haired nin in the maze of underground tunnels. The spicy, comforting scent Pakkun associated with Iruka no longer clung to the man. He smelled of harsher things now, of metal and blood and pain. And something close to ... despair? Pakkun had never smelled despair, so he couldn't be sure, but it was a cold smell. A lonely smell. And it went with the way Iruka looked when Pakkun found him.

He was chained to the bare concrete wall, covered in wounds. Some were bleeding – long slashes made with a blade – some starting to scab over. There were bruises, too, purple and black, and abrasions, lesions, puncture wounds. His hands and feet were swollen in their bonds, the wrists and ankles rubbed raw by the rough shackles. Deep circles ringed his eyes and his lips were chapped and bloody. Worst of all, though, was Iruka's gaze. Dull and lifeless, the gaze of a man who'd nothing left to give, who'd resigned himself to death and waited without hope for the darkness to claim him.

Pakkun crept closer, knowing it would break Kakashi's heart to hear of Iruka like this, but hoping against hope that the chocolate-haired nin who'd won his master's love was not beyond their help.

For the longest time, Iruka gave no sign of life beyond his laboured breathing, no sign that he was aware of anything outside his personal hell. But then his lips moved. A thread of sound emerged from the man's throat and formed into a single word:

"Aconite."

Pakkun disappeared in a puff of smoke as soon as he heard the jangling of keys announcing one of Iruka's jailers, embarrassed that a human had caught what he had been too preoccupied to notice. But Pakkun knew right then that the strange, cold, lonely scent he hadn't recognised wasn't despair at all. It was a mix of scents he knew well: defiance, determination. And hope.